


To Hear The Angels Sing

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Breeding Kink, Dildos, FTM Dean Winchester, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Series, Rimming, Size Kink, Squirting, Stanford Era, Top Sam, Trans Dean Winchester, this is literally all porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: “You…”“Yeah, me.”  Sam can’t make his legs work, so Dean saunters towards him, hands still in his pockets.  “What’s up, Sammy?”





	To Hear The Angels Sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrandNewNamja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandNewNamja/gifts).



> Contrary to the title, this fic has NOTHING to do with Christmas, Advent, etc - I just liked the idea. I honestly didn't think I would write this fic but the idea just sort of came rushing out of the dirty hive mind (Kat, ALWAYS) and then it... happened. I had intentions of serving up this porn feast for Thanksgiving but real life happened so it was delayed - no matter, as here we are now. This is dedicated to Rizzo, whose tireless efforts and encouragement mean the world to me. 
> 
> Obviously this is my first go at tackling Wincest from this angle, so if there's anything horribly wrong, GENTLY tell me. I do have first hand experience with most of the body parts mentioned here, even if it has been a while.

          Sam is doing his best to sit still, really – but the closer that the minute hand moves to the quarter after three mark, the more difficult it is for him to not fidget.

          Law History had started out as his favorite class this semester, but now it’s just… boring.  They’re only four weeks into the new school year and Sam’s already tired of it.  It’s a lot of information and yes, precedents are important, and will be in the career he’s dared to envision for himself, but it’s just so _much._ Combine that with trying to secure an internship for the next school year (yeah, they have to be considered that far in advance) AND work in the school bookstore on top of the rest of his classes, Sam’s starting to think that junior year will be the hardest one yet.

          This weekend though?  He’s got three days off, his friends are all getting together for a party, and goddammit, he’s going to get just as trashed as he possibly can.  He hadn’t had so much as a break since school ended back in May, having opted to stay in Palo Alto rather than go off with Dean.

          God, he misses him.  He misses him so goddamn much that Sam had bought a body pillow that’s roughly Dean’s height to have something to spoon at night.  Brady had teased him about it, subtly offered himself if it’s a warm body he’s after, and then been rejected.  Brady’s cute, and probably could take Sam’s dick just fine but he’s just… not Dean.  And no matter how many times Sam jerks off to the memory of Dean, it’s never, ever going to be the same.  The bruises Dean had left behind on his last visit had long faded, the taste of his mouth pure imagination.  It’s not something Sam will forget but hell, he’d sell part of his soul to kiss Dean right now.

          Five minutes til, and Sam’s pretty much forgotten what the hell it is Dr. Browning is talking about.  He doesn’t care, not really, his mind already shifting towards a half formed fantasy of Dean jammed up against him in his dorm room bed, fucking on their sides because it’s too narrow for Dean to be on his back.

          Sam’s cock stirs, which means he’s going to need some time before the party to indulge himself.  His roommate won’t be there tonight, so Sam should have the room to himself.  It isn’t like sharing one with Dean, where he can just pull his dick out and go at it – much to Dean’s enjoyment and much of the time, encouragement. 

          Sam licks his lips like the taste of Dean is already there, desperately wishing that he was.  Even if he only got five minutes with him, just enough to let Dean leave him breathless with one of those utterly sexy kisses that he seems to reserve for Sam exclusively.  God help him, that’s it, that’s all he needs.

          The lecture ends, and Sam is one of the first out of his seat, his mind centered entirely on getting back to his room to go through the nudes Dean had sent him last month for the hundredth time.  He had no idea how Dean managed to get such good ones, but god _damn_ Sam had nearly creamed his pants just looking at them.

          It’s not what he wants, even halfway, but he’ll try and make the most of what he’s got.

          Coming out the door, he hears the completely unmistakable “baby boy.”

          What the _fuck_?

          Sam turns and God bless him, it’s _Dean._

He’s resting against the wall, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his beat up leather jacket, tanned, dusty boots and ripped jeans making him look like he just walked off the set of some photo shoot – but that’s just Dean, the version of him that Sam keeps in his head like most people keep their families in their wallets.

          “You…”

          “Yeah, me.”  Sam can’t make his legs work, so Dean saunters towards him, hands still in his pockets.  “What’s up, Sammy?”

          Sam doesn’t give a single flying fuck that his classmates are all around him, nor that some of them _might_ know that it’s his brother – he kisses Dean, hard enough that Dean lets out a soft _oof_ as Sam collides with him and presses their lips together.

          Dean is _here,_ alive, _beautiful –_ Sam honestly wants to cry, because for once, he’s getting exactly what he wants, when he wants it.  Dean kisses him back, his hands going right in Sam’s back pockets to pull them as close together as possible – Sam hears a couple of faint _alright, Sam!_ and _hey look, Winchester’s got a boyfriend_ in the background but they don’t fucking matter, not when Dean’s about two seconds from opening his mouth and letting Sam in to do whatever the hell he wants.

          Sam does make himself stop before a lot more is said about him, completely unable to keep from grinning against Dean’s mouth.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

          “Thought I’d go for my M.B. – to see _you,_ Sammy, why else?”

          “Me, or my-”

          “Oh, definitely.”  Dean subtly slips a hand between them and _squeezes_ Sam through his pants, turning Sam’s arousal up from a simmer to a full burn.  “But I got a better place for it than here.”

          “Yeah, my dorm’s only a ten minute-”

          Dean shushes him with a finger to his lips.  “No, Sammy, I’m talkin’ _away_ from here.  Completely.  Me and you, that’s all.  Car’s loaded and waiting.”  The anticipation of Sam saying yes is all over Dean’s face, but he’s still giving Sam an out if he wants it.

          Like hell Sam is going to give up a three day weekend of sex and well, probably more sex with Dean to go drink with his friends.  “Where, exactly?”

          “Seventy miles northeast.  Cabin, secluded, king sized bed.  Belonged to one of Dad’s Marine buddies, said we could use it any time we wanted.  I… may have slept there last night just to test it out.”

          “And you didn’t tell me you were in the area?”  Sam pokes him gently in the stomach, still in too much shock to move away yet. 

          “And ruin the surprise?  C’mon, Sammy, you know me better than that.”  Dean slides his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam’s head and kisses him again, and this time he does put his tongue in Sam’s mouth.  Sam sucks on it greedily, unready to let Dean go until he absolutely has to.

          “Yeah, you’re right, I just…”  Sam can’t put it into words, not yet – he’s still waiting for the dream to end and wake up in bed, sweating from a heated vision born of nothing but his brain.

          “I missed you too, Sammy.  Kinda why I’m here.”

          And from what he can tell, any talking and catching up will be done _after_ they get their hands on each other.  “I’ll call Brady on the way to my room.”

          Dean’s bright expression dims a bit at the mention of his friend.  “Got plans?”

          “Not anymore.”  To sooth Dean’s temporary jealousy, Sam gives him his dimple on full blast – Dean concedes defeat when he shoves Sam by the shoulder, and then immediately slips his fingers into Sam’s free hand.

          By the time they’re back to Sam’s room, his entire weekend has changed and Dean is starting to get a little more handsy than is publicly acceptable.  Dean can grab his ass as much as he wants, no problem, but honestly?  Trying to cup him while walking?

          Sam’s pretty sure he’s hard enough right now that the entire campus can see the outline of his dick through his jeans.  Dean doesn’t really need to call any attention to it, and yet they stopped for a solid two minutes in the stairwell up to his room so that Dean could get as much of a handful as possible without actually getting his cock out.

          Dean takes a second to look around while Sam digs an already packed duffle out from the bottom of his closet – some habits never change.  “Do I need to bring a gun?”

          “Just one.”  Dean doesn’t even pretend to be ashamed as he grabs Sam between his legs and pulls him towards him again, grasping him underhanded so that his thumb is curved over the top of his cock and the rest of his fingers under, stroking him awkwardly but goddammit, Sam can’t ask him to stop when he’s been craving exactly this for so goddamn long now.

          Dean’s about to kiss him when Sam puts his hand to his chest, leaving Dean bewildered.  “I’m not asking you to stop, just offering the option of actually touching me.  My roommate won’t be back until long after we’re gone.”

          The bright, mischievous expression returns to Dean’s face and it goes right to Sam’s cock – “oh, baby, this is gonna be good.”

          Sam isn’t prepared for the way Dean suddenly grabs his shoulders and pushes him towards the door, but god _damn_ if it isn’t completely and totally exhilarating, that hot, familiar rush of Dean pushing him to where he wants him – only because he expects Sam to do the same to him.

          And Sam will, whatever Dean wants.

          Dean doesn’t hold back in the way he kisses Sam, not this time.  He goes right for the kill, the entirety of his body pressed to Sam, their two inch height difference almost completely unfelt.  Sam slides his hands under Dean’s shirt, settling his hands on his hips and squeezing, _wanting_ to leave his marks on Dean.  Dean groans into his mouth, rubs himself against Sam’s thigh where he’s keeping Dean’s legs spread.

          “Fuck, Sammy, that’s it.”  Dean’s hands move everywhere, from Sam’s chest, down to his waist, his ass, his cock, then back to Sam’s face, every single option open to him.  Sam reaches between Dean’s legs, rubbing him right where his slit is up to his cock, pressing in _hard_ on him – Dean moans, opens his legs wider, and Sam can’t stand it anymore, he _has_ to have Dean.

          “Fuck, Dean, I can’t _wait._ ”  Sam bites another kiss into Dean’s mouth, pushes him back, shoves his pants down to his knees and watches in complete awe as Dean does the same, his thighs coated with wetness as he kisses Sam and switches their places, bending over so that Sam’s view is completely unobstructed.

          “Fuck me.”

          Sam doesn’t need to be told twice.

          Dean’s hands are braced against the small entryway, his back and shoulders still tragically hidden but fuck, neither of them can even be bothered to finish stripping.  Dean looks even wetter from behind, his hole _dripping_ with arousal and fuck, _fuck fuck fuck_ he’s gotten even hairier since Sam saw him last, and it takes every bit of restraint Sam has not to shove his face in and lick Dean out until he’s screaming.

          “Plenty of time to admire the forest later, baby boy.”  Dean wiggles his ass and Sam doesn’t waste any more time, grabbing his dick to tease against Dean’s entrance for just a moment before he’s pushing in deep.

          He isn’t sure who moans more loudly, himself or Dean.

          It’s enough to make Sam bury his face in the back of Dean’s neck, crying out as Dean tightens around him deliberately, buried balls deep.  He can feel Dean’s precome soaking into the skin at the base of his dick, the air filled with his scent.  Sam takes a moment to just appreciate it before reaching around and gripping Dean’s hips, steadying himself before both of them lose their footing.

          “God I’ve missed you,” Sam whispers, dropping kisses up to the back of Dean’s left ear.  “Missed you so _much_.”

          “Prove it, Sammy, fill me up with that big fuckin’ dick of yours.”

          Sam can’t gauge how long he’s going to last, but Dean certainly doesn’t seem to care – he just wants to get fucked, and Sam wants _to_ fuck.

          It’s been _way_ too long.

          Sam starts off mostly easy, letting Dean get readjusted to his body, fucking him right on the middle part of his shaft where he’s thickest.  Nature built or not, Sam is still a lot to handle and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Dean right now and ruin their plans.  Dean keeps trying to get his hand on his dick and stroke, but every time he does Sam angles just enough to rub his sweet spot, picking up speed the more Dean reaches for himself.

“F… fuck, Sammy, you… that’s fuckin’ _mean._ ”  Dean looks back at him, his cheeks flushed deep red and covered with stubble.  Sam leans up and kisses him deeply, swallowing his groans as he fucks him harder and deeper. Dean is so fucking wet that it’s getting noisy, especially right here against the door – his hallmates are _definitely_ going to know he’s getting some.

If he yells out “brother” then he’s going to have some very complicated explaining to do.

Dean, of course, doesn’t seem to care and keeps begging _harder little brother, harder._

God, the sounds Dean fucking makes when he’s getting pounded drive Sam absolutely wild.

Sam slips a hand down to Dean’s cock and rubs him, circling his fingers in this ridiculously slow motion that’s completely at odds with how fast he’s fucking him.  “So fuckin’ hard, Dean.”

“You… Jesus, Sam, don’t fucking stop.”

He can feel Dean tightening, and God it’s pushing him close too, just the lack of stamina from not having Dean to fuck regularly promising him a fast, messy finish.

Sam rubs Dean’s cock as hard as he dares and all it takes is one more sharp gasp from Dean and that’s it, Sam’s coming hard enough that he knocks Dean forward hard enough to nearly slam his head in the door.  Dean makes him keep rubbing, fucking himself on Sam where Sam’s stopped and he comes too, pulsing hot and hard around Sam’s cock.

They don’t sink to the floor but if Dean wasn’t there to hold him up, Sam is positive he’d be in it right now.

“That… Jesus, you got tighter, Dean.”  He’s draped over Dean’s back, enjoying the post-sex haze that’s always strongest after it’s hot and spontaneous like this.

“Kegels, Sammy.”  Dean finally slips off of him and tries hard to close his legs against the mess of come and precome inside him.  “Thought I was gonna squirt there for a second.”

Sam moans, both because of that image and because he’s way too fucking sensitive to try and get hard again so quick.  “We have three days, Dean, I’m sure we can make it happen.”

Dean turns around and brings Sam’s hand to feel between his legs, letting him touch and feel the mess he’s made of him.  “That a promise?”

When presented with that sort of evidence, how can Sam possibly refuse?

 

___

Sam awakes the next morning feeling more rested than he has in months now, the sunlight just barely penetrating through the tall trees to make the faintest glow through the window.  He honestly doesn’t care what time it is, he just knows that it’s Friday, his body is still tingling, and Dean is four inches away from him, sprawled on his back with the blankets shoved down to his waist.

He’s beautiful, more so than Sam can ever put to words.  The scars from his top surgery are more faint now than they were a year ago, but Dean still keeps his chest shaved smooth.  His nipples are small, perfect little peaks, begging for attention in the coolness of the room.  Sam turns over on his side for a better view and splays his hand out over Dean’s chest, rubbing slowly.  He doesn’t want to wake him just yet, not when Sam can take a moment to just bask in how fucking good his brother looks.

Dean’s treasure trail is beautifully hair, dark blonde, and completely tempting in that it points towards exactly what Sam wants.  Sam pushes the blankets down gently, guiding him down to Dean’s pubes, almost unfairly thick, thick enough that every time he gets turned on the musk stays trapped and drives Sam absolutely wild.  Of course, Dean could shave every bit of it and Sam would still go hot for him but god _damn_ if testosterone isn’t a hell of a thing. 

More than anything, Sam’s just glad that Dean is comfortable in his own body.  It had been rough for him, growing up, trying to get regular treatments, therapy – and so on.  The hunting life is hard enough as it is but somehow, someway, Dean had done that, for no one but himself.

The best thing?  Sam’s been in love with him the whole time, from the time he was Deanna up til now.  Sam’s proud of him, and more than that, insanely happy, seeing Dean in the body that _he_ wants to be in.

And fuck Sam six ways to Sunday if he’s not getting turned on just watching Dean sleep, the gentle rise and fall of his ribcage, his bowlegs completely unable to hide his soft cock.

          “So fuckin’ hot, Dean,” he whispers, and nuzzles the side of Dean’s head.  They had promised each other last night – there is no “no touching” rule, and even after fucking twice last night, Sam still wants him, so badly that he feels like he’ll combust if he doesn’t touch Dean.

          Dean hums in his sleep, instinctually turning into Sam as he slides his hand down between his legs, his hole still ever so slightly wet from last night.  Sam recognizes the texture of his own come and fucking _fuck_ that makes him hard, to know that Dean is still leaking even hours later.

          Sam strokes his cock just hard enough to make Dean gasp, not yet conscious but getting closer to wakefulness every second.  Sam drags his finger across his hole, capturing some of their mixed wetness to rub over Dean’s cock in, slow, deep circles that when awake, make Dean moan so fucking prettily that Sam never seems to know when to stop.

          He’s about to slip his finger inside when Dean’s eyes flutter open and he bites his bottom lip at Sam, smiling as he thrusts against the palm of Sam’s hand.  “Good mornin’ to you too.”

          “Morning,” Sam says, and licks Dean’s mouth open that anyone else would describe as invasive – but Dean rolls right back for him, mouth open and already reaching for Sam’s cock.  Sam moans as Dean swallows his tongue, his fingers getting wetter and wetter the harder he jerks Dean off – but it isn’t what he wants to do, not now.

          “Never did get around to blowing you last night,” Sam murmurs, two fingers inside Dean and stroking him so that Dean continually shivers with pleasure.

          “That… fuck, Sammy, you….”

          Sam kisses him again, more than a little proud he’s already rendered Dean speechless.  Dean’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he finds that spot again, stroking over it just lightly enough to tease.

          He’ll do it again, but not before his face is shoved between Dean’s legs and he’s nearly has his hair pulled out.

          “One thing, Dean.”  Sam kisses and licks his jaw and throat, refusing to move until Dean’s heard him properly.

          “Whatever you want, baby boy.”  Dean’s voice is already sounding fucked out, and Sam hasn’t even had his dick anywhere near his throat yet.

          Sam drops his voice to a growl and puts his lips up to Dean’s ear, sucking on his lobe as he says “Want you to bust all over my fuckin’ face.”

          Dean’s reply is a broken, fervent _yes,_ and Sam kisses his way down his body, scraping his teeth against his hipbones, sucking even more marks next to the fingerprints he left behind from fucking him last night.  He could draw this out, make Dean writhe and beg and plead with him for as long as he wants but he can’t do that, not when they have all the time in the world to do just that later.  He doesn’t plan to leave this bed until he absolutely has to, if Dean will have him.

          But if Dean makes as much of a mess doing this as he normally does, they will absolutely have to wash the sheets when they’re done.  Fuck, Sam may just fuck him against the washing machine while they wait.

          _One thing at a time, Sam, Dean’s not going anywhere._

There’s still dried come stuck to the inside of Dean’s legs, the hair matted and crusty.  God, he hadn’t realized just how messy they had gotten last night, and that Dean had never cleaned up after they left Stanford.

          Sam has to bite his tongue to keep himself from getting too excited about the fact that there are currently _three loads inside Dean right now._

“You good?”

          Sam looks up from between Dean’s spread legs, smiling wide.  “Oh, better than good.”

          Dean pushes on the back of his head, and Sam doesn’t need to be told twice.

          This is a language that Sam has been fluent in for a while now, the one of pleasing Dean.  It’s not a contest as to who gives better head – they’ve both come so many times from going down on each other that neither of them ever bothered to count – but Sam thinks he has the edge when he’s got his lips wrapped around Dean’s cock and is licking around the plush edges of his hole and makes Dean so fucking wet that it soaks through to the mattress.

          Of course his opinion swings the other way when Dean sucks him down to his balls like it’s fucking nothing.  It never was a competition, not really.  It’s simply about making each other feel good.

          Sam smiles as Dean spreads his legs and tries to push himself onto Sam’s mouth, already starting to drip with precome.  Sam gets Dean’s legs over his biceps and licks up from the bottom of his hole up to his cock, just barely with the tip of his tongue.  Dean shudders and grabs Sam’s hands where they’re resting on his stomach, their fingers linking together.

          “Fuck, Sammy, c’mon, don’t fuckin’ tease.”  Dean sounds like he’s trying his hardest to keep it together, and it’s _almost_ convincing – but Sam’s been doing this long enough that he knows he can unwind Dean at his own pace and Dean will be with him every step of the way.

          “Mmm,” Sam replies, and gives Dean the broad, flat part of his tongue.  He covers as much of him as he can, finishing by dragging himself very, very slowly against Dean’s cock.  Dean moans and arches his back, offering up more of himself to Sam.  Sam rides right there with him, licking up Dean’s precome, all the way back up to his mouth to give Dean a taste of his own body. 

          Dean sucks his tongue clean, and then pushes Sam back down.  “Know you’re thirsty for my come, Sam.”

          Sam licks his cock and pulls back his foreskin, exposing his plump head even further.  “Damn right I am.”

          Alright, he’ll stop fucking around now.  He knows Dean’s on edge and Jesus Christ, he’s lying in a puddle of his own precome as well.  He grinds his hips against the mattress, slow, long rocking motions that are synchronous with his tongue on Dean.  He knows the hot spots, particularly just inside Dean’s hole.  He licks long, in long, slow hieroglyphs, making circuits down, sideways, back up to Dean’s cock, Dean moaning _more, Sammy, fuckin’ more_ and Sam picks up the intensity every time, _feeling_ Dean start to pulse under him.

          “Close, baby?”  Sam’s face and chin are covered in Dean’s precome, and his rubs his stubble right over his cock just in case Dean wasn’t sure.  Dean pushes his face away, his legs drawing up and God almighty, Dean’s wound so fucking tightly that it’s not going to take _anything_ to set him off.

          Sam kisses up the back of Dean’s thighs to his knee, licking him right in the soft join.  Dean claws at the sheets, trying to open his eyes and face him.

          “You’re a fucking monster,” he growls, his hand hovering over his cock like he’s going to finish himself off – but he doesn’t.  He knows he wants Sam to finish him, make him scream his name and cover Sam’s face with his come.

          “And who made me that way?”  Sam strokes his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, licking his lips to savor the taste still there.  “Taught me everything I know, Dean.”  Sam drops and kisses Dean’s stomach, circling his navel and nuzzling his treasure trail.  “But you fuckin’ love it, knowing you messed your baby brother up for anyone else, don’t you?”

          Sam swirls his tongue around Dean’s cock and that’s all it fucking takes.

          Dean comes so hard he nearly knees Sam in the side, fingers twisting and pulling at Sam’s hair so hard that his scalp burns – but Sam doesn’t fucking care, because he just made Dean fucking Winchester squirt all over his face.  He keeps licking and sucking his cock, over and over until the sheets beneath them are absolutely soaked and Dean’s breath is coming in short, hard gasps.

          Good fucking _morning._

“Sam… Sammy, fuck you… you gotta stop, baby boy, I’m….”  Dean finally pushes him away and puts a pillow over his face, screaming and biting into it as he thrusts against nothing, the insides of his thighs soaked and sticky.  Sam just sits back and licks his fingers clean from where he was holding Dean’s legs, watching his throbbing dick drip and add to the mess that Dean’s made.

          “Had enough?”

          Dean chucks the pillow at him and then tackles him, backwards off the bed so that they end up tumbled halfway into the floor.  He kisses Sam with a ferocity that should have been knocked out of him by now – but it wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t at least _try_ and match his intensity, biting his way into his mouth, grinding his wet cock against Sam; it’s all part of the game, and Dean’s a fucking MVP.

          “Fuck no,” Dean says, finally managing to get them both to the floor.  “On your back.”

          Sam pulls him in for one more kiss and then lies back.  “Yes sir.”

          “Hands behind your head – been a while, and I know you like to shove.”  Dean waits until Sam is stretched out in all his lanky glory, crawling up his body to kiss him on the mouth, licks his pits (yeah, Dean’s got a thing for those too) and then he’s on his cock, licking Sam up from his balls to his tip.

          Fucking copycat.

          Sam honestly got super fucking close when Dean blasted his face that first time and every touch of Dean’s lips to the underside of his cock just drives that intensity up by a factor of a million.  Dean keeps looking up at him with those incredible eyes, batting his eyelashes and sticking out that gorgeous pink tongue as he laps at the fat vein traveling up the right side of Sam’s cock like a vine.

          “Miss me?”  Sam makes his balls tighten and then drop, his cock flexing in Dean’s grip just to fatten himself up even further for him.  Dean catches the drop of precome running down the bottom and strings it with his tongue – no fucking porno will _ever_ come close to that.

          “Nah, I’m just gonna choke down all eight and a half inches of you because I have nothing better to do.”

          “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

          Dean kisses his frenulum and closes his eyes, knowing his argument has been quashed – and if his mouth is full of dick, then he can’t fucking spar with Sam anyway.

          And what a fucking glorious thing Dean’s mouth is, every fucking time.  Yeah, Dean can pretend all he wants that he’s rusty – it’s so completely untrue that Sam doesn’t even have time to process that thought, not with Dean taking him in until his chin is bumping the root of his cock.  He holds Sam there for a solid twenty seconds before he’s back up, halfway, tugging Sam’s balls hard enough that to anyone else it would fucking hurt.  He keeps Sam’s foreskin drawn back, hitting the inner foreskin with deliberate swipes of his tongue that make Sam’s balls tighten up to his body completely.

          Strong head game or not, Sam always thinks Dean does better.  Eating him out is one thing but hell, Sam is _a lot_ more to handle.

          “So fuckin’ good, Dean.”  Sam wants to push down on the back of his head and choke him, make him spit and gag, his eyes water – but he keeps his hands to himself, lets Dean enjoy him and work him up until Sam’s coming all over his face, thick, white ropes of come that Dean has to close his eyes against.

          Of course he doesn’t stop, keeps rubbing Sam’s head over and over again until Sam’s screaming – it’s payback for holding out on him for so long.  Sam knows what he’s doing, and he chases the last dregs of his orgasm as hard as he can, his head swollen and oversensitive.  He feels a completely different rush, one ten times as powerful as the load he just blew all over Dean’s face – he’s so, so close, and yet-

          “C’mon Sammy, squirt for me.”  He rubs his palm over the tip of Sam’s cock it becomes a blur, dialing up the feeling by too fucking much and that’s it, Sam can’t fucking take it any longer.

          Dean makes him squirt so hard that it’s enough to nearly knock him right the fuck out.  He winds up covered in it, clear, sticky fluid that makes the room smell even more like sex.  It’s an ecstasy so pure that Sam sees heaven flash behind his eyelids in vivid relief, and he’s fucking glad that he can’t make himself do this, only Dean.  It’s only _ever_ been Dean, no matter how hard he’s tried to make it happen.

          And yes, he’s missed Dean just the same as Dean’s missed him. 

          That last pulse is catharsis, final and total, and Sam has to grab Dean’s hands to make him stop.  “I… Dean, fuck, get…”

          He’s shaking so hard that he can’t fucking talk.  Dean gets it, still a complete mess himself, settling himself over Sam’s thighs and leaning down to kiss him so tenderly that it’s disorienting.

          “You keep trying to fuck my mouth like that and I’m gonna get hard again,” Sam says, entirely unsure of where the mess Dean made ends and where his own begins.

          “And it’s only Friday morning too – think you’ll be able to go again in an hour?  I brought that witch’s brew, the one that makes you shoot over and over again…”

          Sam groans, his dick only half-soft – but he still wants more, hell _anything_ Dean can give him.  “Breakfast first – I’m not takin’ that stuff on an empty stomach again.”

          “So long as you blow the chef after.”

          Sam slides his hand between Dean’s legs and rubs the still dripping slick from his hole, making him gasp.

          “Deal.”

          Bacon and fried eggs are _totally_ worth going down on his brother against the counter for.

___

          Between his legs being sore as hell from fucking and the entirety of the house smelling like sex, Sam finally calls a break for them to finally just exist together, just for a morning.  Or an afternoon, whatever – but his prostate is as dry as the Sahara, and Dean, brave as he is, is starting to get oversensitive and fucked out.

          After the last fuck on Friday evening, Sam had insisted they wait at least twelve hours and not long after breakfast on Saturday morning, Dean had suggested a hike.  They had thrown the sweaty, sex-damp sheets in the washer, Sam had showered, and by the time he’d gotten out, their bags were packed and Dean was wearing a “c’mon, Sammy” smile.

          Admittedly, being out here in the California forest is peaceful.  Sam can’t help but check over his shoulder for the prey they aren’t stalking every two minutes, but neither can Dean.

          Hunting never really leaves you, no matter how hard Sam’s tried to put the life behind him.  Well…. all of it except Dean.  Dean would likely be there regardless.

          “Dude, we’re not on patrol.  Just relax.”   Dean’s walking a couple feet behind him, halfway to make sure Sam’s six is covered, half to ogle Sam’s ass in his tight jeans.  Both are appreciated.

          “Like you don’t have a pistol in your waistband too.”  Sam doesn’t carry it with him when he goes to class, but whenever there’s a room inspection, he hides it in his closet.  Otherwise it’s under his pillow.  Alright, so some old habits do indeed die hard, but it’s more for his own comfort than anything.

          “Yeah, well that’s me.  C’mon, Sam, just enjoy the view.”

          “Like you’re doing?”

          Dean closes the gap and smacks his left ass cheek, just enough to make a soft _whump_ that doesn’t quite echo off the trees around them.  “I like to get up close and personal with the sights.”

          “Since when is my ass a sight?”  Sam doesn’t let the arousal be heard in his voice – but he kind of wants Dean to touch his ass again.

          “Remember when you played soccer your freshman year of high school?”  Dean’s look turns lascivious and fuck it, he _likes_ being objectified, better yet when Dean’s voice gets low and growly.

          Sam stops walking and turns to face him.  “The blue shorts?”

          “Mmm.”  Dean reaches around his waist and down, his fingers skirting the warm skin next to the handle of his pistol under his shirt.  “Couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of you.  Swear that the summer before you just… grew the fuck up so…”

          He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, Sam grabbing him for a kiss that takes very little effort for Dean to follow on.  Slowly they’re backed up against a tree, the rising morning sunlight shaded them so that the bark is cool against the back of Sam’s neck and head.  Dean’s hands are in his back pockets, kneading and squeezing the firm, nearly plump muscles of his ass cheeks.  He doesn’t have quite the booty Dean has (genetics being what they are) but for a guy?  Yeah, Sam will admit he’s got a nice ass.

          “Thought I called a twelve hour truce,” Sam says, his neck craned up so that Dean can mouth at his throat and rub his stubble over it.  Every brush of his jaw makes Sam shiver, despite the fact that he’s starting to sweat.

          “Been over fourteen now, and there’s a couple things I haven’t tasted yet.”

          Sam grinds against Dean, his cock hardening more and more by the second.  “Kinda far back to the cabin.”

          “No one out here but us, Sammy.”  Dean squeezes his ass again, and whatever nominal resistance Sam was thinking about offering crumbles.

          “Eat me the fuck out Dean, good and sloppy.”  Sam bites and sucks on Dean’s bottom lip, then lets himself be spun around and pinned to the tree.

          “Yes _sir._ ”

          Dean presses against him the second his backpack hits the ground, chest to back, nosing and kissing at the fringe of Sam’s hair where it stops at the nape of his neck.  “Smell so fuckin’ hot, Sammy.” 

          Sam dips his head, his brother’s breath warmly wet against his skin as his belt is undone.  “Think I still have some of your come in my hair.”

          “Shouldn’t have let me ride your face,” Dean teases.  Sam’s belt is unbuckled, his pistol plucked from his waistband all in one smooth motion.  “But since you were _begging…_ ”

          “Thought that was you.”

          Dean rubs Sam’s hard cock through his underwear, letting the friction work Sam up more.  “So we’re both guilty – but it’s my turn, so if you’ve got anything else to say…”

          “Stop fucking around.”

          “Atta boy.” 

          The smile in Dean’s voice is unmistakable, and Sam credits himself for not squirming _too_ much when his naked ass is exposed to the air around them.  Outside fucking has never really been his thing but now, just this once – he can be okay.  Besides, it’s not going to be a concern when-

          “Holy shit, Dean, _do that again.”_

Dean had taken his pistol and shoved the skin-warmed barrel right into his balls – and Sam had liked it.  A lot.  God, he’d go so far as to call it fucked up, but here he is in the woods about to get eaten out by his older brother, ass out for God and all nature to see.

          “Again?”  This time Dean’s a little more exploratory, his eternal fascination with Sam’s balls turning into him nudging them around and watching them swing.  “Thought you said I was the kinky one.”

          “ _Dean._ ”

          Dean runs the barrel over the insides of his thighs (very, _very_ slowly) and puts the gun aside, within reach if Sam should decide he wants more.  Truthfully, Sam wouldn’t say no to Dean fucking him with… he won’t let himself finish the thought.  Their current situation is _more_ than enough for now.

          “Swear you’ve got the prettiest hole, Sammy.”  Dean’s on the ground behind him, kneeling and adjusting as he spreads apart Sam’s cheeks.  “Would love to see you take a dick some day.”

          Sam squirms, unsure if he’s aroused or uncomfortable.  “Stick to the plan, Dean.”

          “Mmm.”  Dean kisses up the back of his thigh, his thumbs hooked so that as much of Sam as possible is exposed.  Dean’s stubble rubs against his crack, not quite at his hole but so, _so_ close, making Sam want to push back against his mouth.  He can feel Dean’s breath, every huff making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

          Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, shoves his face in, and licks the _hell_ out of Sam.

          Sam knows what he’s doing, copying how he eats _Dean_ out.  It works insanely well on him and fucking hell, Sam can’t fault him for it, not when it drives Dean crazy.  He ends up with his face pressed into the bark of the tree, hands braced against it to keep himself upright; Dean’s doing such a good fucking job that his knees are getting wobbly.  It’s far, far too good, and Sam’s getting louder and louder the longer Dean’s tongue keeps working its way into his body.

          He hasn’t even touched his cock and can feel the string of precome that’s swung left to stick to his leg hair, fat, silvery drops collecting and starting to run down the side of his knee and calf.

          “Think you need a break,” Dean murmurs, and coats his fingers with Sam’s slick to feed to him, his jeans rubbing deliciously against his ass.  He sucks Dean’s fingers like they’re going to be the last thing he tastes, the salty tang of his body combining with the rising heat to make him want to drop to his knees and suck Dean off until he’s pulled all of Sam’s hair out.

          Except Dean doesn’t let him, pulling his fingers out of Sam’s mouth and wiping his spit all over his hole.  “Hold still, baby, we aren’t done yet.”

          Christ, Sam honestly doesn’t know if he’s prepared for whatever’s coming next.  “Could pretty much name your price right now.”

          Dean’s rummaging around in his backpack, bringing out a towel from the bathroom – with something in it.  “I know – which is why you need to hold still for just a second – and turn around.”

          Sam rests his head against the tree, the _snick_ of their lube bottle opening up unmistakable.  “If you wanted to finger bang me, you could have just said so.”

          “Better than that, baby boy.”

          “What are…”

          Sam feels the thick, familiar head of his dildo against his ass.  “When did…”

          “Packed it away before I even came and got you from class – wanted to see you use it on yourself, but I changed my mind.”

          Sam gasps, Dean’s fingers coating him with lube that wasn’t there a second ago.  “Jesus, Dean, you…”

          “Could have told me, I know, Sammy, I know – but let me do this, alright?  Kinda left my harness in Reno, so uh…”

          God, Dean fucking him with a strap on wasn’t the image he wanted to bust to just yet, but he very nearly does.  They’d only ever done it twice, and the results had been _messy._ “Fuck, Dean, I… fuck me.”

          “Working on it.”

          Dean positions himself so that the moment the dildo slides into Sam’s ass, Dean’s tongue is in his mouth, curling around his own to ease the sudden stretch and burn.  Dean keeps going until the balls are pressed against Sam’s body, as deep as he can get it, then pulling out just far enough to try and nail Sam’s sweet spot.

          Sam’s so fucked up lust right now that it feels like his entire being has shrunk down to that one spot that Dean finds on the second try, making Sam whimper.  “Fuck, Dean, right… right there.”

          Dean moves to his ear, kissing the lobe and shell.  “Like that, Sammy?  Like my cock in you?”

          Sam nods, fast, anything to get more of whatever Dean’s going to give him.  “Yeah, I do.”

          Dean slides it out, faster this time, adjusting his rhythm to keep Sam right where he wants.  “How much?”

          “A… a lot, big brother.”

          “Mmm, good boy.”  Dean nips at his neck and jaw, going faster with the dildo, making Sam’s lower body go molten.  “So good for me, Sammy, so fuckin’ good.”  Dean looks down, watching Sam’s ass get stretched.  “Looks fuckin’ hot, Sammy, that pretty ass of yours taking my thick cock.”

          Sam moans, his heart thudding so loudly in his ears that it may as well be the trees crashing down around him.  “Harder, Dean.”

          “Anything for you, little brother, _anything._ ”

          He lasts about thirty more seconds before Dean’s deliberate, focused attack makes him bust a load far bigger than he thought he was capable of, his thighs quivering and Dean not fucking stopping until Sam’s literally too sensitive to handle anything further, sinking down into Dean’s lap against the base of the tree.

          “Dean, let me…”  Sam starts to reach for Dean’s belt buckle, getting stopped halfway.

          “No you don’t, Sammy, that one was on me.  Besides, what I have planned can wait, alright?”  Dean kisses him hard and deep, not giving Sam the opportunity to ask _what plan._

Knowing Dean, he’ll be filled in soon enough.

 

___

          Time passes far too quickly for Sam’s tastes, and he tries not to be depressed about it.  Like it or not, he has to go back to school tomorrow and he’s not even considered the homework he’d hastily stuffed in his bag.  He _almost_ feels guilty for not looking at it, but with Dean in the room, it’s hard to focus on anything else.

          He winds up doing it anyway, because after another hike Sunday morning (and a long, hard fuck the night before) Dean had knocked off to take a nap, and Sam had to do something to fill the absence of Dean’s voice.  He does what he can without his laptop, figuring that if he can have at least half of his paper typed up by four tomorrow afternoon, then he’ll be okay to turn it in on Wednesday.

          Sam doesn’t want to think about how Dean will have already been gone for three days and while he’ll be left with a head full of beautiful, erotic memories, that’s all they’ll be. 

          He deliberately makes himself stand up and go to the kitchen, rising from his position on the sofa where he’d been curled up, pencil and notebook in hand.  He pours himself a tall glass of water, drinks it, and then fills it again.

          Right as he’s about to start drinking, Dean’s sleepy shuffle stops behind him and his hands slide up under his shirt to warm his skin.  Sam sets his glass aside and hugs Dean’s arms, making his fingers poke up from under his collar to kiss the tips.

          “Sleep well?”

          “Eh, kinda – was missing something.”  Dean backs off enough to let Sam turn and face him, and is then right back in his space.  “Thought for sure you’d join me at some point.”

          “Homework,” Sam says, gesturing to the living room.  “And I don’t want to get… too attached to the idea of not sleeping alone.”

          Dean nods, knowing full well what Sam means.  “It’s going to fucking suck.”

          “Yeah.”  Sam rests his forehead against Dean’s, trying not to let the suddenly frail hold on his emotions break.  “But Christmas break isn’t before too long, and the university is closed that whole time…”

          “Shhh, Sammy, we got one night left here, let’s enjoy that, alright?”

          Dean kisses him, sweet and tender, and this time Sam does let his emotions go, just for a minute.  Dean kisses him until he’s recomposed himself, wiping his own eyes in sympathy with Sam.  To be fair, they’ve both worn each other down, not only physically but emotionally.  It’s not a burden, to be around Dean like this – it’s the knowledge that it’s going to end.

          And most of their talking has been done after sex, when they have to be honest with each other and it reminds Sam painfully of how it was just a few short years ago, when they lived in each other’s pockets, had no one but each other for days or weeks at a time.  Part of Sam wants that back, and has never _stopped_ wanting it.

          Dean pulls him out of his thoughts, fingers linking with his and pulling him towards the bedroom.  “C’mon.”

          The bed had been made up and tied to the bedposts, cuffs that Sam hasn’t seen in a long time now.  Dean stands next to him, his arm around Sam’s waist and his mouth next to his ear.

          “Never got around to this last night, so here’s what you’re going to do, baby boy; you’re going to take as much of me as you need and make me come so hard I scream until I can’t anymore.”

          Dean grabs him by his shirt and pulls him down on top of him, landing so that Sam’s covering the whole of his body and his legs are wrapped around his waist.  Dean thrusts and drags himself against Sam’s crotch, serving to get them both hard, very, very quickly.  Sam grabs Dean and shoves him up the bed, growling as he does and making Dean moan in turn.

          “You wanna be tied up and fucked, don’t you?”  Sam makes Dean sit up so that he can yank his t-shirt off, flinging it across the room and biting at his chest.  “Want to be left wet and dripping with my come?”

          “Fuck, Sammy, _yes._ ”  Dean doesn’t offer even nominal resistance as Sam puts his hands above his head and secures his wrists.  They maintain eye contact as Sam makes sure the cuffs won’t come loose, dipping his head to give Dean another hot, wet kiss before he starts to move down his body.

          There are scars that weren’t there the last time Sam saw him, ones that look far deeper than they should be.  He kisses each one of them, like just the touch of his lips will make them go away.  He licks over the insides of Dean’s biceps, right down to his pits, nosing at the hair Dean is so ridiculously proud of.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, Dean, so, so beautiful.”  Sam finally comes back to his mouth, his right hand sliding down Dean’s belly to get under the loose, unbelted hem of his jeans.  Dean isn’t wearing any underwear, so it’s easy to find his cock, hard and wet, the head swollen.  Sam rubs him slowly, watching Dean’s face as he does, each minute change in his expression burned into his memory.

“Feels… fuck, Sammy, feels fuckin good.”  Dean purses his lips for a kiss and Sam dips his head, licking over the seam of Dean’s mouth and capturing the silky smoothness of his tongue right as he slides his fingers into Dean’s hole, dripping wet with precome.  Dean tries to close his legs around him, fuck himself on Sam’s fingers – but Sam doesn’t let him, turns his hand so that he can find that sweet spot and rub over it, slow, small circles that make Dean shudder.

          Fuck, he _really_ needs to finish getting himself and Dean naked.

          “So fuckin’ wet for me, big brother.”  Sam rubs his thumb over Dean’s cock, making him moan even more loudly.  “Can’t wait to fuck you, open you up.”  Sam kisses him, his own cock throbbing in his jeans.

          Dean breaks the kiss, keeping his lips right against Sam’s mouth.  “Breed me, Sam, want your fuckin’ load _deep._ ”

          Sam growls, surprising even himself, and moves fast, ripping Dean’s jeans off and shedding his own clothes as fast as he can.  His cock is so hard that it swings up and smacks his stomach as he frees himself, feeling the precome that’s coated his shaft leave a wet imprint.  Dean licks his lips, holding his legs open as Sam grabs a pillow and raises his hips up a little higher.

          “Fuck, Dean, do you know how often I think about this?”  Sam rubs his cock over Dean’s, teasing and getting himself wet before he slides in.  “How often I wish you were in my bed after I got back from class, ass up and dripping wet for me?”

          Dean struggles, doing his best to get Sam’s dick inside himself.  “Whole fuckin’ lot, it looks like.”

          “Every fuckin’ day, Dean.”  Sam bends down and kisses him, not even bothering to keep a hand on himself as he slides inside Dean’s hole.  Dean nearly bites through his tongue, taking Sam hilt deep, both of them starting to sweat so much that it drips from Sam onto Dean, running down his body.

          “Fuck, Sam, baby, right… right there.”  Dean squeezes around him, shaking as Sam pulls himself out halfway and fucks back in, angled just slightly down so that he’s rubbing under Dean’s cock.  “So fuckin big, baby boy, so… God, fuckin’ perfect.”

          “Love it when I can fill you up Dean, make you feel my big fucking cock in you.”  Sam fucks deeper, a little faster, feeling Dean’s wetness grow even further, tempted to undo the cuffs around Dean’s wrists and gather him up to fuck him down on his cock.

          Dean offers up his neck, and Sam sucks a mark into his throat, letting Dean pull him back in with his legs.  Not an ounce of daylight can get between their bodies, sweat-damp and flushed.  Sam feels the tidal wave starting to pull back, heat gathered deep in his body, Dean tightening more and more around him by the second.  He’s just barely fucking Dean, keeping as much of himself pressed on Dean’s cock and hot spots as possible.

          “Sam, I’m close, just… fuck, I need…”

          “Tell me.”

          Dean grits his teeth, Sam’s cock rubbing right against his.  “Right there, Sam, right-”

          He breaks, his arms straining as he bites down _hard_ on Sam’s shoulder, pulsing around Sam’s cock so hard that it pulls Sam with him, so deep inside Dean that he’s only aware of heat, wet, _intense_ heat, the sound of Dean’s moans pure music pushing him over the edge.  It’s an almighty rush that leaves him completely breathless, more than any other time they’ve destroyed each other over the last couple days.

          It takes a long time for them to stop shaking, and by the time they finally come back to earth, the sun has gone down and Sam feels way too heavy to move.

          Dean’s still lying there in the cuffs, eyes closed and breathing deeply.  Sam releases him and rubs his hands and wrists to get the blood flow back, realizing only a minute later that he’s still inside Dean’s body.

          “Dean?”

          Dean grins, sucking his bottom lip like it’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted.  “Mmm?”

          “You good?”

          “If I could still get pregnant… Jesus, Sammy, that’s…”

          “What you wanted?”

          “Needed.”

          Sam doesn’t ever want to let him go, gathering Dean to him and kissing him so softly that it surprises even him.  “I love you.”

          Dean makes him look him in the eyes, fingers cupping his face.  “Love you too, baby boy.”

___

          The next morning when Sam’s dropped off near his dorm, stealing one more hard, soul-searing kiss from his brother’s lips, his heart is already breaking, and watching the Impala go has never been this hard.

          But Dean will be back.

          Dean _always_ comes back.

         

         

         

         

         

         

         

         

         


End file.
